


In Death, Sacrifice

by iamnotelegant



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Final Battle, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 23:38:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15851775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamnotelegant/pseuds/iamnotelegant
Summary: They are standing at the gates, amidst corpses of Darkspawn, the Darkspawn's rotting scent percolating into the air around them, its noxious smell churning his gut.Darius and Zevran's final moments before battle.





	In Death, Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> Why did I do this? because I like to torture myself, and also I have been playing a lot of da:o lately. I am also thinking of sacrificing my Warden at the end so... lol. In other words, constructive criticism is welcome! It is like, almost 7 o'clock in the morning and I shouldn't be awake but I got hit by feels and had to write it out. Comments and kudo's are always amazing, but thank you and enjoy! (Sorry for typo's, I will probably edit this some more once I get some rest.)
> 
> Also, I listened to "Let me die" by Abel Korzeniowski while writing this. I think it is very fitting. You are welcome to listen and read at the same time lol, I always love to listen to music that fits the atmosphere of a story I am reading.

“Why? Why couldn’t you just - Morrigan, Darius! she - she had the answer!” Zevran is frantic, so unlike himself, his eyes wide and filled with so much panic, so much fear. But of course, why wouldn’t he be scared? Darius is as well but ascending upon the precipice of battle, of war, the culmination of everything he has been through since leaving the tower: he cannot afford to be.

They are standing at the gates, amidst corpses of Darkspawn, the Darkspawn's rotting scent percolating into the air around them, its noxious smell churning his gut. He should be accustomed to the smell by now, but the answering bile rising to the back of his throat tells him otherwise.

“You know I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.” Darius speaks, softly, the words feeling heavy on his tongue, the weight of a dragon settling onto his shoulders.

All he wants is time. All he ever wanted from life was more time. More time spent on his studies, learning all the wonders of the world seen through his window, the world that suddenly came within reach when he got recruited by Duncan. More time learning where Duncan was from, how long he was a Grey Warden for, how he came to be one before his life was stolen. More time when he could have asked Jowan what made him turn to blood magic, how Darius could have prevented that, how he could have been a better friend. Enough time to listen more intently to Leliana's tales, experience more laughter between him and Alistair; how Qunari culture differed vastly from Fereldan’s when Sten spoke of Par Vollen, feeling homesick and in need of a release from the emotion.

More time with all of his companions - his, his friends - his  _family_.

Just. More.  _Time_.

“But at least then you would be alive!” Zevran counters, his body tense with anguish.

Zevran is wearing the ancient Elven armor Darius gifted to him. A truly beautiful work of art; its metal glittering bright silver and an enchanting green, almost like starlight. Darius remembers the day he gave it to him, thinking how it would suit Zevran well with its light weight and impenetrable metal. The Elves always knew best when it came to equipment and he pleaded with Zevran that he wear the armor for this battle.

Even now when it is an example of excellent craftsmanship, it simply doesn’t do Zevran enough justice. Darius drinks him in, knowing well enough this will be the last time he sees such a glorious sight.

He reaches forward, grabbing Zevran’s hand and pulling him in, Zevran following easily until the fronts of their armor’s are almost touching.

“Alive, yes,” he reaches up with one hand, curling his fingers into Zevran’s hair, feeling the soft, blonde tendrils damp with sweat. “But at what cost?”

Zevran is trembling, his mouth tightening at the corners, his eyes still too wide, still too frightened and unaccepting of what comes next.

“ _Why_  should there be a cost, mi amor? When we could have had more time? Wouldn’t that have been enough?” Zevran is pressing closer, so close it is as if he wishes to meld them together. It reminds him of passionate nights spent under the stars away from prying eyes.

But this… this wasn’t passion, not the kind they have grown to know. It was desperation, helplessness, ringing with cold melancholy.

For a moment, Darius thinks if maybe Morrigan’s ritual wouldn’t have been so bad? But he quickly shoves that train of thought away because no, he couldn’t. Not after what happened to Duncan and all the other Grey Warden’s.

He wants to do right by Duncan. He needs to.

Alistair understood when Darius informed him of his plans the other night. He understood even when he looked like he was biting back things he wanted to say, his face a sad, stormy expression.

“Everything comes with a cost, my dear Zev.” Darius wraps his other arm around the assassin’s waist, holding him against his chest.

Darius is beginning to feel the unfairness in this situation, the ache trapped within the cage of his ribs. The life they could have had, the adventures: it’s all speeding past him in flashes behind his eyes. “This is how the world works, you know this.”

“Can’t the world be wrong, just this once?”

Zevran is still rigid in his arms and all Darius wants is to soothe the ache away, to remove the anguish and dread and kiss him until he is all soft and pliant, all warm, supple bronze skin beneath his hands. But, he can feel Zevran’s gauntlet fingers digging into his lower back where the armor falls short. Digging into the flesh of him through the cloth, digging so deep Darius thinks Zevran wants this to be enough; for him to say _yes, I will stay_.

However, he can also see everyone else who isn’t already inside Denerim’s walls, waiting on him to give the signal to charge forward and join the fray. All of them ready to risk their lives for the light barely visible at the end of the tunnel. At least it is something to look forward to, this light. This future that holds so many possibilities. The world resting on his shoulders, their dreams and hopes for living beyond this war, to keep fighting until their dying breath.

Darius cannot take that away. Even if... even if it means losing everything he holds dear.

Their inner circle surrounds them, not too close to be within earshot but far enough to know the nature of their conversation; some of them looking on with saddened eyes while others are looking away to give them the illusion of privacy. 

“Zevran…” he whispers, soft and intimate. He will stretch this moment into forever if he has to. Deep down though, he knows he can’t, and isn’t that just cruel? “m’afraid not, my love, for we are out of time.”

“No…” Zevran's accent thickens, becoming watery.

Darius holds him tight, just for a second longer, an eternity longer, trying his best to store the feel of him into his memory. To burn that scent of leather, oil, and underlying aroma of sweet deathroot into his lungs.

“Darius,” a broken, defeated plea. Zevran is pulling back, bright golden eyes meeting his, bright and sheen like the sunrise, soft like the sunset. His mouth opening, ready to dish out his last attempt but Darius is already there, tasting the words on his tongue.

He is kissing him fiercely, passionately, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip; kissing him with his very being until he is sure Zevran can taste the essence of his soul.

Then he is pulling away, resting their foreheads together, breathing him in. “There are not enough words and so little time, so I will say this: thank you, my love… for showing me how it feels to love, and be loved. I never had that in the tower.”

Darius pulls back only to grab Zevran’s hand, placing something into his palm and curling his fingers over it.

“Remember me because I will remember you, wherever I might go after death.” He is kissing him again, softly this time. A farewell.

Darius pulls away, lingering a second longer to take one last look at Zevran's face.

“I love you.” he whispers in finality.

And then, he is gone.

 

* * *

  

Zevran stands alone, the world burning around him as he watches the backs of Darius, Wynne, Sten, and Leliana get smaller in the distance.

He feels envious, slightly angry that he is not able to stand beside his Grey Warden in this final battle. But he knows why Darius purposefully left him behind, the same reason why he also left Alistair.

They both saw Alistair's eyes, the determined look on his face. They knew Alistair would have attempted to dissuade him, regardless of Darius’ wishes.

 _Alistair cannot die_ , Darius told him the night before, _he is far too important. The world will be changed after this and the Wardens will need his guidance._

Zevran didn’t know what to say or think, for what kind of friend would he be to Alistair if he asked Darius to trade the final blow with the other Grey Warden. 

He already wasted enough of his breath trying to convince Darius to do the ritual with Morrigan. 

_Everything comes with a price, Zev. This is my payment. You cannot convince me otherwise. But enough of this talk, come, I don't want to spend our last night together bickering, my love._

Zevran doesn't realize his cheeks are wet until he does, memories swarming him, taunting him with its suffocation. 

He continues to stand alone until he feels the weight of a hand settling onto his shoulder. He looks to his left only to find Alistair, standing the same as him, watching their friends running towards the heart of the battle where chances of survival are most dim. Ogrhen and Shale come up behind them.

After a long moment of watching the closing gates, Alistair finally says: “He is a good man, one of the best.”

Zevran can’t think of words to say so he nods, still feeling the ghost of Darius’ lips, his warmth, but Alistair knows. Alistair understands.

Over the past year the lot of them have grown close. Tight knit, like a family. Zevran’s first. And Darius... Darius was the greatest of them all... and he will be sorely missed. 

Zevran can see it in the way Alistair’s eyes are glistening, in how he is visibly struggling to keep a stern face; in the way Oghren’s hands are clenched white around his hammer, and how Shale is silent and still, parts of her crystal shards glimmering low.

They all know this. 

Their leader is leaving and there is _nothing_ they can do about it. 

“Come, we must ready for battle.” Alistair commands, his voice firm but shaky, turning away. “We must do our best to not disappoint him.”

Their companions follow, but Zevran…

Zevran uncurls his fingers and looks down at his palm, eyes finally taking in Darius' final gift.

It is a pendant.

Its chain is long and made of shimmering silver, the pendant itself encasing a dark, midnight blue gem with an engraving of the Grey Warden’s emblem atop its surface. A griffin.

The gem is beautiful, enchanting, holding the kind of blue that shifts color when looked at in different angles, almost appearing as if it were glowing or holding the sun’s reflection in water.

This was a gift to Darius, from Duncan.

Zevran knows this because Darius would tell him the story. How after Alistair gave him the vile of Darkspawn blood after his initiation into the Grey Wardens, not too long after that Duncan gave him this pendant. Darius treasured it; constantly wearing it around his neck, rarely taking it off. 

He feels a heaviness sinking into his chest, gripping hold of his lungs but.. he understands, and he... _accepts_. Zevran has no choice but to.

Nonetheless, he cannot help but think,  _Why must you leave me? If you leave... I... I can’t..._

Zevran stares longer at the pendant, running his thumb over it. It still feels warm from Darius’ skin. So warm it helps him feel closer to his love, even though he is further away than ever. 

Raising his arms, Zevran is about to hang the necklace around his neck when he spots words engraved on the back of the pendant.

Bringing it closer, he reads: _In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice._

He reads the words again. 

And again,

and again. 

 

* * *

  

Months ago...

_“You know, Zev, us Wardens have a code.” Darius announces, turning with a flourish to face him from where he walks five paces ahead, one hand subconsciously gripping onto the handle of his sword._

_”Oh, you mean that silly oath of yours? Swearing fealty to protect us against the Darkspawn_?” _Zevran teases, smiling at Darius from where he is perched atop the moving wagon. It is being pulled by Alistair’s horse (the only horse, he might enviously add)_.

_”Of course it would sound silly coming from someone who doesn’t take anything serious.” Alistair comments. He is currently walking by his horse, leading her by her reins. Her name is “Brie” because of, well, cheese._

_And everyone knows how Alistair loves his cheese._

_“Isn’t that calling the kettle black, Dog?” Morrigan tsks. She is sitting beside Zevran, her nose buried in that creepy grimoire of hers, a quilt Wynne made currently wrapped around her form._

_It’s pretty brisk out, Zevran thinks, rubbing his hands together for warmth._

_He dearly misses Antiva, but most of all, her warm weather._

_"Not that it’s any of your business, Hag, but I do in fact take_ some _things seriously—“_

_”What is this emphasis on 'some'? You are a Grey Warden, are you not?” Morrigan, without missing a beat, cuts him off, pulling herself away from the book to smile slyly at Alistair's back. “You should be more like Darius, who knows how to not embarrass himself in front of Royal—“_

_”Okay, first of all, I didn't know that was the King's daughter, okay? She came onto me! And second, I am_ _a_ very _serious person when it comes down to it! You just don't notice because you're too busy trying to eat babies and turn people into toads—“_

 _”As I was saying,” Darius interrupts, loudly, “Us Wardens have an oath, and before Morrigan and Alistair start up again—by the way, you two, it is_ way _too early for this!" Darius scolds, glaring at Alistair and Morrigan while he stops, waiting for the wagon to catch up._

_Zevran hears Alistair quietly grumble, "the witch started it..."_

_Darius pays no attention to Alistair, instead choosing to meet Zevran's mirthful gaze. "Wo_ _uld you like to hear it?”_

_Zevran smirks, never wavering from the Wardens stare, the blueness of his gaze._

_”Ah, great. More eye sex.” Ogrhen’s_ _complaint is ignored while Darius jumps onto the wagon._

_They hear Brie huff from the added weight while Darius settles himself on the other side of Zevran._

_Zevran already knows the Warden’s oath from his long stemming admiration for Grey Wardens, but he hums his answer and waits anyway._

_“Duncan taught me the oath within my first days of recruitment. I also read it in books when I was an apprentice at the Circle of Magi.” Darius explains._

_“Is this the tower you’ve mentioned before?”_

_“Yes, the tower I grew up in.”_

_Zevran hums, carefully watching Darius’ face._ _He can't help but find Darius very striking and roguishly handsome, more so than any human Zevran has met._

_“I was always interested in the legendary Grey Wardens,” Darius smiles at him, soft and warm. “Now that I think about it, maybe I was always meant to be one?”_

_They are silent for a long moment, Darius seeming to be lost in thought. Zevran likes this silence, the comfort he finds in moments like these. He feels a strong urge to lean closer to Darius, to lay his head on the Wardens shoulder. To be able to feel his warmth through the armor he adorns each morning._

_But, they are not that close. Not in that way. Not the kind of close that Zevran wants to be._

_Zevran is about to say something when Darius begins to recite softly, something heavy and emotional pouring into his words:_ “‘In war, Victory. In peace, Vigilance. In death, Sacrifice.’” 

_The assassin stays quiet while Darius continues to stare ahead at the rising sun, a slight wind moving his dark hair softly around his face._

_“This oath has always been something I have never understood the magnitude of." Darius turns to face him, his usual cheery face is shadowed, his expression somber. "But, e_ _ver since I have become a Grey Warden, though... my perspective has changed. I understand now.”_

_Zevran, not really knowing what to say, replies with: “It is a noble lifestyle. A selfless one.”_

_“Yes,” Darius agrees, but he is looking away again, staring someplace far away. "But a tragic one.”_

 

* * *

  

Zevran clenches his fingers around the necklace, fighting for control against the oncoming wave of emotion working its way up his throat.

A tragic one, indeed. 

After a moment, he hangs the necklace around his neck but still holds it between his fingers, staring where Darius disappeared through the gates of Denerim.

“I will remember you, mi amor, even when others might forget decades from now: I will always remember you.” He kisses the pendant and tucks it behind his breastplate, turning away and reaching for his daggers.

_Your sacrifice will not be in vain._

 

 

\- The End -


End file.
